With My Whole Heart
by celestial1
Summary: From the book "The Magic of Ordinary Days" by Ann Howard Creel also somewhat based on the 2005 Hallmark Hall of Fame TV movie . Some scenes from the life of Ray and Livy Singleton.
1. Christmas

**author's note. **Oh my, where to begin with this one... I first read TMoOD back in 2002 and I loved it instantly. I read it in pretty much one sitting and it's one of those books whose only flaw is that the covers are too close together. I was a little bit leery of the Hallmark movie that came out in 2005 but I was pleasantly surprised - it was actually fairly decent. Anyway, the movie was re-aired last weekend (five years later) and I watched it and fell in love with Ray and Livy's story again. And the more I thought about it, the more that the little thoughts and ideas I'd had over the years started to bubble to the surface, and before I knew what had happened, I was sitting down at my keyboard and writing this.

I don't actually have a copy of the book, sad to say - every time I try to order one off of Amazon, my order always seems to get cancelled, like some kind of curse - so I'm largely working off of memory. For example, I know that in the book the timeline was a little bit different, and I don't recall book-Livy ever being as close to leaving as movie-Livy was. Mainly, though, I feel that this story is wedged somewhere in between the book-verse and the movie-verse... which doesn't make much sense when I try to explain it, but I don't think it will be terribly hard to follow. I initially thought about posting this under Misc. TV Shows, until I found out that that category consists almost entirely of Jonas Brothers fanfic...** ewww**... I couldn't bear to put Ray and Livy in there so I'm listing it under Misc. Books. (Of course, the Misc. Books section seems to be a repository for people's non-book-related original fiction... seriously, read the guidelines, people, I am getting awfully tired of clicking the 'Report possible abuse' button! Okay, rant over.) As far as timelines, though, I should probably explain that I have gone with the book's version, where Livy wasn't due with her baby until March. On the other hand, my mental image of Ray that I used while writing this story is the movie version. Because... _seriously_.

* * *

**With My Whole Heart**

_"When Ray loves a person, it's with his whole heart." - Martha Singleton_

I learned lots of things about him then. I learned that while his forearms were sun-browned, his shoulders were pale as milk; that he had a birthmark below his collarbone which looked for all the world like a blot of lipstick; that our bodies fitted together as perfectly as two spoons nested together in a drawer. I learned that his eyes changed colors according to his moods, that he cleaned his teeth for a solid two minutes every night and chewed wintergreen gum when he was out in the fields, and that his slow half-smile was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I learned how good it felt to be held by someone who loved me, didn't just desire me, but _loved_ me.

I knew all that, but I still didn't know Ray's favorite kind of cake.

Christmas was only a week or so away, and I'd gotten it into my head that I wanted to make a cake for Ray. Maybe it was because I'd entered my third trimester and the pregnancy was affecting my brain, but it was all I could think about for a day or two so I finally decided to try it. I was getting to be more proficient in the kitchen - not like Ray, but I could at least handle eggs and bacon or biscuits from a mix - and since the omelet incident, I'd learned to follow recipes more closely. So I stocked up on butter and sugar and eggs (all of which were plentiful in farm country, despite the rationing everywhere else) and attempted a simple yellow cake.

It was a spectacular failure.

I had to leave the kitchen windows open for an hour in the middle of the day - despite the chill outdoors - just so Ray wouldn't notice the burned smell when he came in for supper. For three days I baked two or even three cakes a day, and I am sorry to say that they did not get any better. Finally one Sunday I bearded the lion in its den - that is, I asked Mrs, Pratt and Miss Parker for help.

"We'd be delighted to teach you how to bake," Mrs. Pratt said.

"We just adore Ray," the other one added.

"Thanks," I said, "only don't let Ray get wind of this, please? I want to surprise him."

Miss Parker winked. "It'll be our little secret. Come over on Tuesday and we'll get right to work."

"What's his favorite kind, dear? We never did find out," Mrs. Pratt said.

I just stared at her for a moment. It was true that I wore his ring, but there was so much about Ray I still didn't know. And I carried another man's baby in my womb. "I… I don't know," I muttered, beet-faced.

"Never mind," Miss Parker said briskly. "We have every recipe you can imagine, so we'll find something suitable." But I was still feeling unsatisfied with the exchange, so next I turned to Martha for help.

"Applesauce spice cake," Martha informed me over the telephone the next day, "with raisins and nuts, and cream cheese frosting. But you don't have to, honey - I always bake something for Christmas dinner."

"I know," I said. "But this is something I want to do. For Ray."

"Oh, Livy," was all Martha said. But I could tell she was smiling.

The Parker sisters - one was widowed young, the other never married - lived in a tiny, neat house on the edge of town. As soon as Ray was safely out of the house on Tuesday I stole away in the beet box, praying he wouldn't notice my absence. The ladies welcomed me into their warm kitchen with smiles and an apron. But as we creamed and measured and sifted, they kept cutting glances at me and I could tell they wanted to ask me something. Finally, when the cake was in the oven and we were all seated in the parlor with cups of coffee, they spoke up.

"We've been dying to ask you…" Mrs. Pratt started.

"And we don't mean to pry," Miss Parker continued. "But how did you really meet? There must be more to the story."

I looked at the two of them, perched birdlike on the edge of their chairs. And I believed them when they said they didn't mean to pry. They were just interested, was all. I decided I could risk a little more honesty.

"The truth is…" I began demurely, eyes downcast.

"Yes?" The sisters were practically vibrating with anticipation.

"The truth is, my father went to the seminary with Reverend Case."

"Oh, we had no idea!" Miss Parker cooed.

"Yes," I went on, feeling emboldened, "they've been friends since before I was born. And Reverend Case had such complimentary things to say about Ray. It was sort of an arrangement at first, but then…" I raised my eyebrows archly. "Then we fell in love." And I thought the sisters would both drop dead of heart attacks, right then and there.

* * *

Christmas eve, we went to the church, and Christmas afternoon we'd be heading to Hank and Martha's for dinner. I'd stocked up on trinkets for the boys at the five-and-dime in La Junta, and (with Martha's permission) a compact for Ruth. But Christmas morning would be just the two of us. We didn't have a tree, although Ray insisted we'd need one the following year for the baby, and very few decorations. There wasn't much in stores, because of the war, and while Ray vaguely recalled seeing a box of glass ornaments somewhere in the cellar, he couldn't find it and I was getting too unwieldy for climbing around down there. But he had a carved wooden nativity that his father had made for his mother the first year they were married. I cut up strips of brightly colored paper for chains, and I lit every candle I could find. Ray always had candles in the house, even though there were plenty of electric lights. I loved that.

We slept late that morning, almost until eight o'clock. I finally woke up restless, like I was a little girl again, and went down into the kitchen to start coffee. The pot was bubbling, Christmas songs playing on the radio, when Ray came down. He put his arms around me, from behind. It hadn't been very long since he hadn't felt free to do that. "Merry Christmas, Livy," he said.

"Merry Christmas, Ray," I returned, with a peck on his cheek. "I have presents for you."

"Should we open them after breakfast?"

"I can't wait," I told him. "I never could."

"All right," Ray agreed. He led me by the hand, like a little girl, into the living room where there was an oversized box wrapped in newspaper. Trust Ray to forget wrapping paper. "You first."

The box was from the Montgomery Ward in La Junta, and once I lifted off the lid I found something I hadn't been expecting: a pair of winter boots. They were very fine boots, I could tell right away, with sturdy soles and a thick wool lining. And I was in desperate need of boots. My Denver shoes had grown so impractical for a farm in the winter that I'd resorted to borrowing a pair of Martha's rubbers, which were two sizes too big. As clumsy as the pregnancy had made me, I lived in constant fear of tripping. But still. "Thanks, Ray," I said. "These will really come in handy."

Ray smiled a bit shyly. "Why don't you look inside," he suggested.

Puzzled, I turned the boot in my hand upside down, and a small, tissue-wrapped box landed in my palm. "Why, Ray…" I unwrapped the box, not even bothering to smooth out the tissue paper and save it as my mother would have done, and lifted the lid. Nestled inside was an antique pendant - a drop of amber with a filigree cap suspended on a silk cord. He must have noticed that I'd stopped wearing my Edward locket. "Oh, it's beautiful!"

Ray was suddenly bashful. I guessed that he hadn't bought a whole lot of jewelry in his life. "Well, I… I saw it in a junk shop in La Junta," he explained. "I couldn't put my finger on why, it just seemed like the kind of thing you'd like."

"It's perfect," I said. "I've always wanted a necklace like this one. Help me put it on?" He came behind me and did the clasp, and the warmth of his breath on my neck - his fingers brushing my hair out of the way - was a new kind of intimacy. "How does it look?"

Ray stepped back, and suddenly his voice was husky. "Perfect."

Inside the second boot was a rolled-up magazine with a familiar yellow cover. "National Geographic!" I exclaimed. "This is my favorite."

"I asked the librarian," Ray admitted, "what's a good subscription for someone who likes faraway places and - and - lost civilizations." Ray was looking at me intently, and he cleared his throat. "Livy, I don't want you to give all of that up. I know you had dreams, and I know coming to this farm meant you had to give up on a lot of them. But it's part of who you are - it's part of what I love about you."

"Ray." I could bask in the warm glow of his love forever. "Thank you. I can't wait to read them."

"Well, I…" Then he was embarrassed.

"Oh! Here, I'd almost forgotten." I went to fetch Ray's gifts where I'd hidden them in the hallway under some old coats. "These are for you."

Ray started with the smaller of the two wrapped packages. "I'm guessing it's a book?" he said, pretending to rattle a gift that didn't really rattle.

"Oh, just open it, would you?"

Ray grinned impishly at me as he tore off the red paper. "'101 Card Tricks,'" he read. "This will really come in handy with Martha's kids." He ran his fingers over the embossed title, then opened the front cover. "'Dear Ray, Merry Christmas 1944. I promise I won't read this book, and then you can tell me it's really magic. With love from Livy.'"

"Here," I said, handing him the second package before I went and got all sentimental. "But don't shake this one, it's a little bit fragile."

"All right," he said, and agonizingly took his time neatly pulling off the paper.

I'd gotten him a little Kodak camera at the Montgomery Ward. "I was thinking," I said, "that you would want to take some pictures of the baby when she comes."

Ray winked at me. "Maybe I'd like to take some pictures of my beautiful wife, first."

He tried to pull me in for a kiss, but I wriggled away. "Come here," I said, leading him by the hand into the kitchen. "One more thing."

"Livy, is that…"

"Applesauce spice cake," I said, "with cream cheese frosting."

Ray looked skeptical. "Did you make that?"

"You bet," I said proudly. "Miss Parker and Mrs. Pratt taught me how. I'm sure Martha won't mind if we cut a slice before we go over."

Ray lifted an eyebrow. "I had something else in mind."

* * *

"And of course, I will need to get to the hospital when the time comes."

The boys were running around, chasing each other with their new toys, and I was trying to resist the lure of a post-holiday-meal nap. The cake had been a big hit - I knew for a fact that Ray had, personally, eaten three slices. We were just making small talk, but apparently, I'd put my foot in my mouth again.

Martha and Ray exchanged a look. "Excuse me," Ray said, rising from his chair and departing. He was still uncomfortable with all the childbirth talk.

"What?" I said, feeling baffled. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Well, it's just that -" Martha looked at me almost pityingly. "The hospital in La Junta is an hour away. Trust me, you won't want to do an hour on country roads when you're laboring."

"But I thought -"

"And it's a tiny hospital, really only suited for treating farm accidents and the like."

"So women don't go there to deliver?" I asked.

"Sure they do, sometimes," Martha said, "if the baby is breech or something like that. But Dr. McCutcheon said that your pregnancy is perfectly normal, didn't he?"

"He did," I said, feeling a little prideful. I'd always had to be the top of the class, and now I had to have the healthiest pregnancy.

"The truth is," Martha continued, "around here most babies are born at home."

"Oh," I said, feeling rather foolish. I smoothed the fabric of my dress over my belly.

"Livy, you aren't -" Martha looked at me through narrowed eyes, as if she could see through me. "Honey, are you frightened?"

"Yes," I said in a very small voice.

Martha scooted her chair closer so that our knees were practically touching. "Honey," she said, "we're all scared the first time. And I can't promise you it won't be very painful. I will tell you that the first time is the worst - the second one'll come out easier." I blushed. Just how much did this woman know, anyway? "And it's never as bad as you think it's going to be.

"I just wish my mother were here."

Martha looked me over. "Tell you what," she said. "When your pains start, after you call the doc, you call me, all right? Morning, noon, or night. I'll come for you."

I knew the Singletons well enough by now to know that hers weren't just idle words. "All right."


	2. Cradle

**authors note**. I have no idea why this story has been on hiatus for so long. I have lots and lots written and just didn't get anything posted for months. I did finally get my own copy of the book - it was backordered but eventually my patience carried the day - so by now I have practically memorized it. (My husband even read the book and he's not usually into novels.) So, let's press on with the story. Livy is still pregnant at the moment, and there are some things she and Ray need to discuss.

* * *

On one of my expeditions into the cellar I'd discovered an old baby cradle, but at the time, I left it alone. I was still hoping, at the time, that my anger would serve as a talisman against the baby ever coming. But as my love for Ray and my belly grew, I found myself becoming more accepting of the idea of motherhood. Welcoming it, even. I looked around whenever we went into town and saw tiny, newborn babies - chubby one-year-olds perched on a mother or older sister's hips - adorable, lisping, listing toddlers underfoot at the monthly church potluck. Sometimes the baby would kick and I'd find myself wondering if she'd be a brunette like me or a blonde like my sisters, if she'd have my mother's wide, pale-blue eyes. And that's when I realized that the baby was going to need a place to sleep.

Ray knew the cradle was down there, of course. I don't know if he was busy, or if he was simply biding his time, but he left the object alone until after the holidays. One Sunday in January, I emerged from an afternoon nap to find Ray on the kitchen floor, newspapers spread all around and the smell of linseed oil in the air. "It's held up pretty good," Ray said without preamble. "Dovetail joints. My grandfather made it."

I gave the cradle a push with the palm of my hand, sending it rocking on worn wooden runners. "Is this the cradle you slept in as a baby?" I tried to picture Ray as a baby, but somehow I couldn't.

"You bet." Ray bent over his work so that I couldn't see his face. "Martha and Daniel too."

Now my hand rested on the back of his neck. "Then I'm sure it will be perfect for this baby, too."

Ray cleared his throat. "You'll need to fix up a little mattress to fit inside," he said. "The original one's long gone. Probably mice got it."

"I'm sure that won't be too difficult," I agreed.

"Anyway, we'll need to have a proper crib before too long," Ray told me. "But this is a good start."

"Why's that?"

"As soon as he can roll over, he needs a bigger bed," Ray explained. "I think Martha and Hank still have a crib they can let us have."

"I had no idea," I said. "How long before the baby can roll over?"

Ray sat back on his heels and considered the question. "Long about three-four months," he said after some consideration.

I sank into a chair and held out my hands helplessly. "Well, now how do you know that?"

Ray shrugged. "I was nearly ten when Daniel was born," he said casually. "I saw a lot of the things my mama did, and I helped take care of him a lot. He was like my little shadow - we got into all kinds of scrapes." Ray's smile was wistful for a moment, then he cleared his throat and went on. "And Martha's brood came along not too long after that. So I've handled my fair share of babies."

"I haven't. I don't even know how to hold them."

"Don't worry." Ray smiled reassuringly. "Martha will be glad to help you out. But most of it - well, it's just nature."

"Nature," I echoed, looking at the snow outside. "I don't have the most faith in that."

"Mama cows know how to take care of their calves, and birds build a nest every year." This was the most philosophical I'd ever seen my husband - Ray was such a literal man. "No one has to tell them when or how. You can say it's nature or it's God or just instinct. You'll do fine, Livy. And that baby -" Ray pointed a finger at my swollen abdomen - "he's going to come out knowing he's supposed to suck, and he wants to be warm and he wants to be held. It's just that instinct again."

"That's interesting," I said, my lips curving into a smile.

"What?"

"That you're so sure it's going to be a boy."

Ray chuckled to himself. "Well, isn't he?"

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Ray," I said, playing along, "but this baby is definitely a girl."

"We'll see about that." Ray turned back to his work, smiling to himself. "What are you going to call her?"

I was slightly taken aback. We hadn't really discussed the definites of the baby's arrival. Today was clearly a day of firsts. "I was thinking…" I began. "I'd like to call her Elizabeth Alice, after my mother."

"Elizabeth Alice," Ray repeated, trying the words out in his mouth. I noticed he left off 'Singleton' at the end.

"But we'd call her 'Betsy' when she's small," I added. "Elizabeth Alice is a bit of a mouthful."

"I like Betsy," Ray agreed. "It's a good name."

"What were your parents' names, Ray?" I asked him. "I don't think you've ever said."

"Albert and Louise," Ray said. "Louise Chester, she was - Martha's youngest is named for her." He smiled, and I remembered how, when I first came, he couldn't bear even to have their photographs in the house. "My daddy was ten years older than her - they grew up near each other, but they never thought of each other that way."

Now I was enraptured. "Then what happened?"

"The way my daddy tells it," Ray said, "after all those years of not noticing each other in church, one day he just woke up to the fact that Louise Chester was a little beauty."

I had seen pictures of Ray's mother and while she had an attractive face, I certainly wouldn't have described her as beauty. Perhaps years of farm work had taken a toll on her the way the did on everybody. Or perhaps love had worked its transformative magic on her appearance for Albert Singleton. It certainly had with Ray. "How old was she?"

"She was just seventeen," Ray said.

"So young."

Ray just shrugged. "People married young in those days. It was a hard life - it wore you down."

"So she was only in her fifties when she died."

"Yeah." Ray didn't seem too upset by my mentioning it. "Dad was the first to go - he just dropped in one of them fields." I followed the sweep of his arm as if I could see the exact place, although of course I couldn't. "The doctor said it was a stroke, but I think he just got tired."

"When was this?"

"Fall of '39," Ray said, "right before Thanksgiving."

"How awful," I whispered. It seemed that that time of year was clustered with memories for the Singleton family.

"My mother got the influenza that winter," Ray continued, his voice quiet but steady. "It wasn't too serious but the next minute she up and died from it. I think she just couldn't bear living without him."

Maybe it was just the pregnancy, but I found this unbearably sad. My eyes filled with tears at the realization that as Ray was older than me, he would most likely be the first one to die. Would I wither mother had? "Your parents must have really loved each other."

"Sure did," he agreed easily.

"If the baby is a boy," I said slowly, "would it be all right if we called him Daniel?" I was suddenly embarrassed. "I don't know if… maybe you don't want to hear that name all the time."

Ray's eyes were as soft as his voice when he spoke. "Livy, I would like that very much."


End file.
